


Boss

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [91]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Oneshot, Smut, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12623008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: Tumblr prompt: " "I need you to scream for me. You're Karen Page he's the Punisher, he will come for you." in which Karen hurt and taken by a villain and Frank is enraged."





	Boss

This is, Karen supposes, starting to get old.

It’s not exactly routine for her to be taken, of course not. But, by now, she knew how to read the signs.

These guys are amateurs. Which, when you think about it, doesn’t say much about her. But she was just coming home from work, they did a pretty good job of jumping her from a dark ally, pressing a rag full of chloroform against her nose, muffling her startled scream.

But their expertise ended there.

They weren’t even keeping her somewhere hidden. Through the big panel windows, she could see the Manhattan skyline. They were somewhere in Brooklyn, by the water. Not a tall building. A warehouse.

Also, they were afraid. Bickering and snorting cocaine, twitching and walking around, mumbling their stupid plan.

“This is what he would want”, one of them kept saying under his breath, eyes bugged out, looking like he might short circuit any minute, now. “We’re doing right by him, we’re doing right.”

“Karen, right?” The one that fancied himself the boss asked. “Listen, K, it’s not personal, you got my word. But he killed our boy, see, he killed Dante.”

Oh. So it was about Frank. She had been wondering if it was because of one of her articles, Daredevil or the Punisher. Maybe Jessica, Danny or Luke.

Sighing, Karen watched as he paced from left to right.

“And what do I have to do with that?” she asked.

“Everything!” He snapped, a little bit of paranoia in his face and voice. “Everything, you see? Don’t you see?”

“How’s he gonna know?” Asked the other, practically shitting his pants, looking out the window.

“He’ll know.”

Here, he took a step towards her and bent so his face was leveled with hers.

“I want you to know that I don’t like this. My momma, she raised me right, I don’t hit women. But we need him here. Sorry.”

He must watch a lot of movies. With a soft move, the back of his hand met her cheek, his knuckles colliding with her cheekbone, and she held her breath in order to keep silent.

“Nah, nah, come on!” He said, loud, his voice echoing in the empty space and she could see he was anxious. “Don’t make me do it again!”

“What do you even want?” She asked, pulling on the knot that tied her wrists together behind her back.

“I want him to get here! He needs to pay for what he’s done!”

“And what has he done?”

“He killed Dante, you stupid bitch!” Said the one watching the window, turning back to look at them. “He killed our cousin!”

Oh.

“And how many cousins have you killed, Bob?” She asked.

“Yo, shut up!”

“What about you, Phil?”

They were stupid enough to call themselves by their own names around her. And considering that Frank had killed their cousin Dante, and Dante Arulio from the South Bronx Killers had turned up dead a week ago, Karen was pretty sure who these guys were. Low level thugs, looking to climb up the crime hierarchy by avenging the death of one of their own and, as a bonus, capturing the Punisher.

“Now I told you I don’t like to do this”, Phil told her. “But I’m gonna.”

He struck her across the face again and, again, she kept her mouth shut.

“Come on, lady. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Pulling out a pocket knife, he moved to stand behind her, whispering in her ear, the blunt, non sharp edge of the blade against her throat. He couldn’t even threaten her life right. “I need you to scream for me. You’re Karen Page, he’s the Punisher, he’ll come for you.”

Yes, he would.

Her cheek throbbing, Karen looked out the window, towards the beautiful skyline. If she could just twist enough to undo that knot, she would be able to untie herself.

“Let’s try this one more time”, Phil said, getting ready to struck her again, this time with a closed fist, when there was a small, quick clinking sound that echoed.

“Go check that out”, he told Bob.

But Bob couldn’t. He was standing there one minute, looking towards the door behind the chair Karen was seated, and then he was dropping, first to his knees, then down to the floor, face down.

Phil got up from behind her and turned around. Karen took the opportunity to move her right shoulder down, creating the right angle for her to pull on the end of the rope tying her wrists behind her back. Even the knot, it was like he had been tying his shoes and not a hostage.

Which, she supposed, in the end, was good for her.

Phil was distracted looking at Frank’s figure at the door, it was easy enough for Karen to get up, turn around and take the knife from his hand and the gun from the back of his pants.

Honestly, SBK was getting sloppy with the recruiting. This guy, seriously?

“Ma’am”, Frank greeted her, not even bothering to point his gun at the guy.

“You killed them”, Phil was saying, pointing an accusing finger at Frank and Karen turned around to see if Bob was dead.

He wasn’t. Frank just knocked him out with a bullet to the side of his face.

“You killed them!”

“Shut up, Phil”, Karen said while the criminal broke down in sobs and fell to his knees while Frank watched. “I’m trying to think.”

She has been thinking about a story like that for a while, now. His minions might be stupid and careless, but he, Dwayne Larson, SBK boss, wasn’t. On the contrary, he was a very educated man, went to a good university on the West Coast, then came back to take over the gang of his neighborhood, with a masters in Business, no less, reclaiming the place that had belonged to his brother, killed by a rival gang when Dwayne was 13 years old.  

She wanted a story on them. Maybe even start something to help the police dismantle them. Dwayne’s greed has been getting out of control, his taxation of local business was making people declare bankruptcy, close their doors, and those who tried to challenge them ended up with dead family members and an even bigger debt.

“Glad about that tracker now?”, Frank asked her, walking past the man who now cried and mumbled on the floor. She bent to pick her phone up from Bob’s pocket.

Karen hummed an acknowledgement, not yet willing to admit that the tracker he had insisted on for months was actually useful.

“You didn’t kill him”, she observed, standing back up and turning to him, who looked mean and huge as always. He looked at her, unimpressed, almost bored.

“You might need ‘em. You know”, he motioned randomly with his gun. “For your article.”

Squinting, she looked at him.

“For my article?”

“Yeah.”

“You never cared about that before.”

He held her gaze and she realized.

“You want to get to Dwayne.”

“Point is, I didn’t kill ‘em. You can’t complain, this time.”

Karen ended up explaining to Phil - or trying to, given he was high on cocaine and adrenaline and fear - that she might be able to get a deal for him and Bob if they helped her on her story and the police on bringing SBK down. He accepted when Frank took a menacing step towards him and cried loudly while they waited for the police, Frank slipping away before the cars got there.

Brett complained - a lot - but agreed to letting Karen interview her captors. He didn’t promise a deal or anything, but was interested in the possibility of an insider’s perspective on SBK’s business.

When she got home, she heard Max’s paws running to the door.

“Hi, boy”, she said when he jumped up to greet her, petting and rubbing his head, trying to calm him down. It was not rare that Frank brought him over, but it was also not that often.

The man himself was standing in the kitchen, dismantling that big sniper gun he never even used, like he did every time he needed something to do with his hands, when he was bored, when he was anxious, when he was worried.

Putting her purse on the coffee table, she walked to him slowly, knowing he was probably in a mood, and touched his back when she reached him, running her hand from the small of his back up to the base of his neck, pulling on his shoulder so he turned to her a bit, leaning in and placing a soft, lingering kiss on his mouth.

He stood there and accepted it, and she worked her fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck, like she knew he liked, and felt him purr against her lips.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked, just to get him talking, to maybe take him from that mood she knew he was settling in.

“No”, he answered, pressing a kiss of his own and turning his head back to his gun.

“Your tracker thing worked. Why are you playing with that thing?”

“It worked”, he said, his voice careful and low, and she moved to put herself between him and the counter. “But I shouldn’t need to use it to find you.”

With her hands on his arms, she ran them up and down, from elbows to shoulders, and then again.

“Are you mad about that or are you mad because you didn’t kill them?”

“I’m mad because you got taken again”, he said, intense and, yes, mad. All serious and short temper and she raised her brows, continuing with the caressing of his arms. “And yes, ma’am, I’m mad because I didn’t get to kill the motherfuckers who took you.”

“I’m fine, though”, she said, trying to use a soothing voice, making him let go of the counter and wrap his arms around her, sneaking her own around his neck, kissing his face, along his jaw, moving sort of like a cat against him. “They weren’t even that dangerous”. A nip on the lobe of his ear, small and teasing, while she pulled his shirt from inside his pants. “I managed to get untied all by myself.”

“Congratulations”. The sarcasm and annoyance dripped from his voice, and Karen leaned back to look at his face, letting go of the hem of his shirt.

“You haven’t even kissed me properly since I walked in”, she pointed out, noticing the deep crease in his brow. “I thought you would be happy I’m not harmed”, she said, looking at her own hands as they made their way up his chest. “At least a little relieved.” His fingers twitched on her waist, almost a reflex move and he went on looking at her with that angry face. “But I guess you’re more interested in being angry that you didn’t get to kill people, so I’m just gonna leave you to it, with your gun. Have fun.”

Moving to step away from him, she did her best not to smile when he pulled her back, inspecting her face quickly before moving slowly, that way she loved loved loved, sure and confident, sweet and loving, to kiss her, big hand holding her face to his, touching his forehead to hers after a long and lazy swipe of his tongue.

“Of course I’m happy you’re ok. Don’t say shit like that”. His voice was low and measured, that sweet quality he reserved only for her. “But you know I don’t like loose ends. And when it comes to you, I like them even less.”

“I’m a big girl, Frank”, she tried and he clicked his tongue. “But I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

Arms around his neck, she moved to place a kiss on his jaw. “Thank you for not killing them”. Another one by his ear. “I know you could have shot Bob in the head, but you didn’t.”

“Bob”, he echoed, sarcastically, hand closing around her waist.

“That’s his name”, she went on, dragging kisses around his face, avoiding his lips. “The other one is Phil.”

He grunted his “I don’t care”, moving his head, chasing her mouth with his and she thought that this wasn’t really fair, seducing him into forgetting it. She really could have avoided this whole thing, but she had been putting off those self defense lessons with Colleen, and he had been insisting upon it, she didn’t want to hear an “I told you so”.

But this felt good, and she was happy to be home after being chloroformed and spending a couple of hours tied up in a warehouse.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked, right hand closing on her shirt on her back, pulling it from her skirt, and she hummed, finally letting him press a kiss on her lips.

“We’ll eat”, she decided, pulling his shirt up his chest, making him step away a second so she could pull it over his head and off him. “Later.”

Frank came back to her with a deeper, more urgent kiss. Discarding his shirt on the counter by his dismantled gun, she sighed and opened up to him, hugging him to her, letting him unzip and run his hands down her skirt, gripping her butt that way he did when he wanted to make a point, hard enough to make her wince.

With one more long, sensual kiss, Karen pushed him away from her by his chest and turned around, prompting him to follow her, hands lifting to start undoing the buttons of her shirt while she walked towards the bedroom.

“You stay, Max”, he said behind her while she stepped out of the skirt that fell down her legs, hearing as he tossed a treat towards the dog bed she had for his pitbull by the couch.

She knew he was watching her, and bit her smile in when he pulled the shirt off her when she was done with the buttons and moved it over her shoulders.

His mouth was on her neck and his arms were around her again in a second, and she walked on, pulling on his arm and making him sit on the mattress, making him lie down by kissing him and pushing on his chest.

After he was settled, his head on the pillows and his feet by the end of the bed, his eyes traveled up and down her body when she kneeled and moved to sit on top of him, one leg on each side, hands supporting her weight - and enhancing her cleavage - on his stomach.  

Karen let him touch her a bit, big hands going from soft to heavy when he alternated between caressing and squeezing. Leaning in to collect another kiss, she nipped on his bottom lip. Standing up on her knees again, she batted his hands away while maneuvering her underwear down and off.

“Hands to yourself, Frank”, she instructed and he took one more second to feel her skin, from her waist down to her thighs, uninterrupted by the panties she threw back, and lifted them to hold the iron bars of her headboard. “Stay still for me.”

This was probably her favorite view. Him, lying there under her, holding onto the bars of her bed because she told him not to touch her, his chest bare, showing her all the lines and contours of him, swells and dips of muscle and skin, she could sit there on top of him forever, just watching.

“All things considered”, she started, sitting there while his eyes traveled all over her and he moved his jaw in a way that made her skin tingle, as if he was salivating. “Today was a good day.”

“You were taken again, ma’am”, he said, not stopping with his visual inspection. “I wouldn’t say that’s good.”

“Well, I got two amazing sources for my story”, she went on, reaching up to take the pins holding her hair on top of her head. “You didn’t kill anyone”, she said, moving her head from side to side when her hair fell free, because she knew he liked the way it looked when it was down. “And now I got you under me. That’s a pretty good day in my book.” With a slow rock of her hips, she grinded on him, feeling everything, but he was still wearing his pants, so it was a little dulled for him. Still, he clenched his jaw and pressed his head further into her pillows.

That evil smile appeared and, suddenly, he bucked up, making her surge forward, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling, her knees coming to stop on each side of his head. She was about to remind him to not touch her until she told him to, when he sat up slightly, his arm lowering her, his mouth suddenly there, amazing, and she was letting out a strangled cry, her heart rate increasing at the feeling of his lips and his tongue.

He knew she was not about to move away, not while he worked his mouth on her like that. What she could do was take one hand away from the wall behind her bed and weave her fingers through his hair, trying to guide him like she wanted, even if he pretty much knew what to do to make her vision go blurry, to make her moan and her skin heat up.

Pretty soon, sooner than she would like, her vision was going dark, she was breaking out in shivers all over and trembling, crying out like some wanton thing, yanking on his hair, one of his hands still holding on to the railing, the other on her back, keeping her there for him.

Trying to get her breathing under control, she got up and scooted back down, quickly closing a hand around his neck at the smug look he had on.

“I told you to keep your hands to yourself, didn’t I?”

Frank licked his lips indecently, watching as her chest moved up and down with her deep breathing.

“Take that off”, he asked, motioning towards her bra, and she shook her head, moving a strand of hair out of her face, sitting down on top of him again, just below his hips, hands pressing on his stomach, feeling his muscles harden under her palms.

“No.”

With a challenging look, he took a hand from the railings and reached towards her. Playfully, she slapped it away and he smiled, breathing out heavily, putting his hand back where she wanted them, holding the bars above his head, making the muscles on his arm flex and jump.

Quite a figure, the Punisher cuts.

Slowly, she ran the tips of her fingers on the waist of his pants, watching as his skin broke out in shivers, just like hers had done moments ago, and fiddled with the buckle of his belt.

“You’re really mean when you want to be, you know that?” he said after she did nothing but trace the metal buckle with her fingers. “Downright cruel.”

With a grin she supposed confirmed his words, she rocked a little bit on top of him and undid his belt, unbuttoning his pants slowly, watching his face as he hissed, tightening his hold on the bars.

“Come here”, she whispered and he sat up at once, putting one arm around her and lifting a hand to caress her in a very un-Punisher way, moving her hair away from her face, looking at her with something that looked a lot like adoration.

With an open kiss to his lips, she lifted on her knees a bit and sunk down again, taking him inside her, purring at the satisfied sound he let out, arm tightening around her, the hand on her face coming down to guide her hips, slow and measured, taking control, it was so natural for him, to control everything, to guide everything, to be the boss of everything, and she let him. For a minute or two, she let herself be guided, kissing him deeply, breathing out loudly, moaning when he moved and pressed her against him, his touch so sure and so reverent at the same time, making her tremble with desire for him, her hands on his hair, his back, his face, his arms.

He moved to change the position she had her legs on, bent at the knee, her feet on his knees, but, instead, she pushed him away from her with a hand on his chest, and he groaned, holding on to her for a second, but going when she insisted, hands there on her hips, keeping her on him, making her move, grinding and pressing, nice and hard and slow.

His head touched the pillow with a little too much force, and he bucked his hips up to keep her moving, because he knew she was up to something.

Which only showed he knew her well.

He really shouldn’t have lifted his hips like that, because when he lowered them again, hands on her hips to make her follow, she leaned forward, hands on his stomach, separating them, hissing at the loss of him, missing him immediately, but he needed to learn.

“Fuck- Karen!” he complained, squeezing her hips, the muscles of his chest and abdomen tight under her hands.

“I told you to keep your hands to yourself, didn’t I, Frank?” she asked, voice low, settling on top of him, hissing at the contact, it felt so good, it would be too easy to go on, to give him what he wanted, what she wanted, but where’s the fun in that.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” he challenged, and she pinched him, grazing, rubbing so good.

“Up”, she instructed, motioning with her head, and he reached up to hold the bars again, looking so damn good, way too good, why did he look that good?

Karen spent some good 10 minutes there on top of him, letting the straps of her bra fall from her shoulders, but not removing it when he asked, she was looking for that word, that one word that meant she won.

Well. They both win in these games they play, but still.

His right hand let go of the railing and made it halfway towards her when she rolled her hips slower, allowing a particularly good friction against him, but she stopped and got up on her knees again, biting on her lower lip to control a smile when he slammed his fist on the mattress and dragged his hand back up, closing his eyes, breathing out with a groan.

“Are you in a hurry?” she teased, running her hands on him, her palms gliding easily because of the thin veil of sweat coating his skin.

“You already came once”, he said through gritted teeth.

“That was your decision”, she said, reaching his shoulder, fingers sliding around his bicep until she reached his elbow, pulling on it. “Not mine.”

She placed his hand on her belly and motioned for him to keep moving it up. Sitting there on his stomach, she bit her lip when he reached inside her bra.

“Come on”, he breathed out and she pressed down on him, away from where he wanted her, but good nonetheless.

“‘Come on’ what?” she goaded, pressing his hand with hers, the thin fabric of her bra between her palm and his knuckles.

“Come on”, he repeated, eyes closed, bucking under her, hand working her breast just like she liked, and she smiled. “Please.”

Ah, there it is.

“No”, she said again and he huffed out a breath, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling, swallowing dry, the movement of his throat catching her eye. “Not just yet.”

He let out satisfied hum when she pulled his hand from inside her bra and lowered it below her belly button, bringing his eyes down, to inspect, and she closed her hand around his wrist, as if to guide him, but he knew just what to do. Her hand was just there to keep him in check.

It was her turn to close her eyes and throw her head back when he started on her, moving his fingers so good.

“Faster, baby”, she instructed, and he obeyed, paying close attention. “Come here.”

He sat up and she kept her hand on his wrist, the other hugging him around his shoulders, guiding his face towards her neck and he went easily, working his fingers faster, in and out, yes, just like that, mouth dragging on her throat, tongue on skin, other hand supporting his own weight behind him.

Karen was almost there, almost there, when she pulled his hand from her, pushed him down one more time and, finally, sank around him, satisfied with the loud groan he let out, putting both his hands on her hips again, trying his best not to take over, just squeezing her between his fingers, enjoying and accepting the pace she set.

“Good?” she asked, her toes curling, and he nodded. “Hmm?” she insisted.

“Fuck, yeah, yes,” he replied, eyes catching hers, and she shivered at that look, that look that asked her permission, it asked for her ok, it asked her for the thing he needed.

“What is it that you want, Frank?” Up and down, slow, dragging, rolling, just a tad faster. “Show me what you want.”

In a flash, he was sitting up again, arm circling her waist, a quick kiss on her lips - a thank you, because  _finally_  - he moved and turned them, coming to be on top of her, pulling on her leg, to lock it on his hip, moving like he wanted, like he needed, like she loved, a kiss on her lips, another, and then on her chin, teeth on her neck, and she was holding on to him, he was fast fast fast, hard and long and Karen loved it, but she pressed her leg on his hip, just to see if he would, and he slowed down, hand finding the headboard again to keep himself in check.

All she wanted was to see if he would still do as she said, and it felt so good to know that he would, but it was too good, now, she needed him to keep going, so she relaxed that hold, circling his waist with her leg instead, prompting him further and, amidst the euphoria, she smiled at the small kiss, the ‘thank you’ he pressed on her neck, and she was seeing stars in no time, untangling her arms from the bra she didn’t even feel him unhook and pull from her.

The hand on the wall behind the bars he had been holding was, now, for leverage, to allow him that movement he wanted and her scream came out silent, her toes curling again and her nails pressing on his shoulders and arms, dragging, unintentional scratches left behind while he grunted against her neck, chasing his own high, God, feels so good.

Frank kissed her slowly while she shivered, going from her mouth to her chin, dragging his lips down her throat, kissing her between her breasts, wasting time on her belly, coming back up when she pulled on him.

“Still mad?” she asked, liking the feel of his hand on her hair.

“Hmm”, he hummed. “Can’t really think.”

Moving to get away from under him, she caught his mouth on hers again and made him lie down on her place.

“You stay put”, she said, on her hands and knees above him, her kisses shallow but lingering.

“Where you goin’?” Frank asked, already so lazy, like a damn cat, too much like a cat, considering he was such a dog person.

“I’ll be right back”, she whispered against his lips, watching his eyes close and remain that way. “Don’t fall asleep!”

His brows shot up and he opened his eyes again when she got up and off the bed. Walking to the kitchen to retrieve that Nutella jar she had been saving to eat with cookies in a cold day, she peeked behind her and found him watching her walk.

“Frank”, she warned again when he stretched. “Don’t sleep.”

Her apartment is small enough that she can hear his chuckle when she gets to the kitchen.

“Yes, boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> I only realizied, after writing and posting, that Boss is the name of one of Jon’s dogs. Oh well.


End file.
